


Pie

by thingswithwings



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, Hijinx, M/M, Pie, Team, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-07
Updated: 2008-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-24 04:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/pseuds/thingswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>May contain citrus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pie

  
"Okay," Rodney says, as bright red fruit filling drips from his nose and eyebrows, and a large piece of crust splatters slowly from the crown of his head down to his shoulder, "I predict that I am not going to take this well."

Sheppard, standing next to him, starts to laugh, and Rodney turns to glare at him – or, glare as best he can with one eye covered in pastry – when another pie comes out of nowhere and hits him square in the face.

"What the . . . " Sheppard begins sourly, wiping banana cream out of his eyes. But he's cut off before he can complete the thought, as pie after pie after pie suddenly starts emerging from the innocent-looking forest, pie after pie flinging towards them out of apparently thin air.

"Ow," Ronon cries, as he takes two in the chest.

Sheppard, after ducking a particularly vicious-looking strawberry rhubarb, eventually decides that some kind of military action is called for, and calls, "Uh, take cover, I guess." They all do: Ronon with something blueberry-like covering his back, Teyla with a crown of whipped cream clinging to her hair, all four of them covered in bits of crust and sweetened squash and something that looks suspiciously like meringue.

"Right," Rodney says, once they're concealed from the pie-barrage behind a rock. "So, obviously I'm hallucinating. Please tell me that the people on this planet are shooting bullets at us, and I'm just hallucinating the pies."

Teyla pokes her head up above their cover for a moment, to look for their enemies. When she comes back down, she's wiping chocolate from her left eye. "You are not hallucinating," she says.

"I hate this galaxy," Rodney mutters.

Ronon rolls his eyes and wipes something cherrylike from Rodney's cheek with his finger. "You love it," he says, licking his finger consideringly.

"Stop that," John says, slapping at Ronon's hand. "It could be . . . poisoned."

Ronon manages to look implacable and incredulous even from beneath his whipped-cream covered dredlocks.

"That is probably not the case," Teyla says, and Rodney can see that she's struggling to repress a laugh. "In fact, I think the cause of our assault is right here." And she stands up suddenly and grabs a kid, about ten years old, who is also covered in bits of pie.

"Stop it! Let go!" the kid demands, struggling against Teyla's grip. Teyla keeps him in a loose headlock. "We didn't know you were there!"

John, Ronon, and Rodney stand up cautiously. "Let me guess," Rodney says. "We unwittingly interrupted the semi-annual pie-combat training here on M3X-4T5."

-

"You unwittingly interrupted the semi-annual pie-combat training on M3X-4T5," Woolsey repeats. For some reason, he makes it sound like a question.

"Permission to go clean up," John says, shrugging.

" . . . granted," Woolsey says, eventually.

-

"So, did you get hit with any citrus, do you think?" Rodney asks speculatively, eyeing John as he strips off his pie-covered clothing to reveal pie-covered skin. "Lemon meringue?"

"You bring the condoms," John answers, "I'll bring the epipen."


End file.
